Jonathan Swift

“ While the first drizzling shower is born aslope;
Such is that sprinkling, which some careless quean
Flirts on you from her mop—but not so clean:
You fly, invoke the gods; then turning, stop
To rail; she singing, still whirls on her mop. ”

“ Threatening with deluge this devoted town.
To shops in crowds the daggled females fly,
Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy.
The Templar spruce, while every spout's a-broach,
Stays till 'tis fair, yet seems to call a coach. ”

“ The tucked-up sempstress walks with hasty strides,
While streams run down her oiled umbrella's sides. ”